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The look on Saint’s face tells me he isn’t happy that Dante spoke up, and I’m glad I’ve stayed quiet. Dante doesn’t quit though.
“Is it the worst thing in the world that she wants this whole thing to be over with? And this way, we’re going on our own will. We have the power. If we’re ambushed by Liam and his men again, there’s no guarantee that we’ll make it out the other side this time.”
Saint turns back toward Dante, his face downturned and grimaced, the wolf in him edging in. “And what is it that you propose? Is it your plan that we take a sick woman to the pier and sacrifice her like a little fucking lamb so that we’re not surprised later?”
Dante steps forward and rounds his shoulders. “Do you not think that we all have her best interest at heart?”
“How is it her best interest if you’re going to take her from the hospital to the docks?” Saint rebuts, his face turning a darker shade of red.
“We’ve got thirteen men at the pier tonight. They ship off tomorrow morning with the next shipment. They’re all armed and with one call, they could provide us with some backup. We wait on this, and Liam attacks us at the house, where there are only three of us, and a woman recovering from a brain tumor.”
Saint goes silent and every muscle in his body rolls back, relaxing one by one as though he’s not as offended by this idea as he could be.
After a long while thinking, Saint growls, “Fine. We’ll go tonight. Call the men and tell them we’ll be there in an hour. I’ll get Liam on the phone.” He glances back at Dante. “If anything goes wrong, this is your fucking fault.”
I glance toward Lucy who waves her palm flat out in front of her like the Alliance Special Forces in Star Wars, meaning bypass threat, then laughs quietly, holding her hand over her face.
I can’t wait to tell that woman I love her.
Chapter Sixteen
Lucy
It’s not the worst headache I’ve ever had. It’s more a heavy pulsing that starts in one ear and travels to the other on an invisible wire that I swear is attached to my head that I can’t touch. I don’t dare tell the guys. I made too big a deal about coming out here tonight. Besides, I’m not dizzy, and I haven’t blacked out. So some people would say I’m killing it.
To be honest, I think I might be hungry. I haven’t eaten anything real since before I was under lock and key a few days ago. I mean, I’m sure the hospital kept me alive with nutritional liquid or something, but I think I owe my body a few tacos and a pitcher of margaritas. I wonder if I can drink. I don’t remember the doctor saying anything about drinking.
Saint presses his palm onto my thigh and squeezes gently as he looks toward me. I’m not sure what he’s thinking, but I can’t stop thinking about my bald head. I hadn’t noticed it in the hospital, thanks to the bandage that’s wrapped around my skull, and it hadn’t even crossed my mind that they’d need to shave it for surgery, but when I was dressing to leave, I couldn’t help but notice the missing locks. Too bad, I had great hair that was long, glossy, thick, and luscious. I hope they donated it. I wonder if I can make that request if they haven’t done it already. Granted, I’m not sure that hair loss should be my priority considering I have a second chance at life.
A second chance at life.The notion is almost surreal considering everything that’s happened over the past few days.
“I know you like to take control,” Saint says, “and I know you like to think you’re in charge, but this thing… with this guy… it has to be me. You can’t spout off at the mouth and go nuts, okay? He has to see that I’m in control of this situation.”
I wonder if all mobsters have warning conversations with their girlfriends before they go into a business meeting.Now, honey, remember I’m in charge.I can see it now, a team of hired killers all being tormented by one five-foot-tall blonde. Seems about right.
“I got it, gangster,” I say, rolling my eyes. “Just let me speak my peace. He does want to hear from me. I’m being kept alive for something.”
“Just promise me you’ll follow my lead. Can you do that?”
I close my eyes and nod slowly as to not aggravate the pain brewing in my head. “You’re the boss today.”
He rolls his eyes. “Something tells me you don’t mean that.”
He’s right, I don’t. If Liam asks me a question directly, I’m going to give him a direct answer. I’m not going to beat around the bush and wait for Saint or one of the other guys to pick up the slack for me. I’m going to do what I have to do.
“One other thing,” Saint says, gripping my hand in his tight. There’s tension in his grip, like he doesn’t want to say what he’s about to say.
“Yeah? What’s that?”
“Liam won’t meet us on the pier. He asked us to meet thirty feet offshore.”
“In the water? Is he insane?” My heart races. Maybe everything I dreamed about during that coma was a premonition.
“Kind of,” Saint says. “I told him that you’ve just had your surgery and that you can’t go for a swim, but he doesn’t give a fuck. He says this way, everyone is out of their element. I’ve got guys all over the docks, and I had one of them check the water depth. It should only be to your waist.” He looks back toward me. “You don’t have to do this. It’s a stupid fucking request.”
“No,” I say, a lump rising into my throat, “I asked for this. Let’s get it over with.”
Dante flicks on the blinker for the SUV and we turn into the pier. I’ve lived in Florida all my life and oddly enough, this is the first time I’ve ever been on a wharf like this. It’s not like a fancy yacht pier or on the other side of town. This place is just for shipping containers, and it’s laid out like a maze of colorful rectangles, most of them blocking the view of the ones coming next. I can see why so many crimes happen down here. This place is a little scary.
